The Face Beneath the Mask
On that very day, as the prince arrived and the royal Consorts and Concubines gathered to exchange their customary pleasantries, the princes themselves occupied the grand royal bathhouse.
Steam curled through the air like drifting ghosts, veiling their bodies and blurring the boundary between warmth and suffocation.
"Have you heard the news?"
The voice came suddenly, sly and tempting—bait cast into still waters.
Baekhwa did not turn immediately. His sharp eyes flicked toward the speaker, cold and piercing.
"And what news would that be, Baekyi?"
His voice was calm, yet heavy with quiet threat.
Baekyi smirked faintly, unfazed. "They say that in the Kingdom of Silla, there exists a prestigious youth order. A place where boys are forged into warriors of unmatched skill." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "And the most interesting part? The women there are said to rival heavenly maidens in beauty."
Baekhwa's expression did not change. "...And why," he replied flatly, "would that concern me?" His tone was sharp enough to wound.
Baekyi chuckled awkwardly. "Well… your first wife, Karen, has already passed. And Loti…" he hesitated, "…she is still far too young to bear you an heir."
A flicker of irritation passed through Baekhwa's eyes. "How amusing," he said bitterly. "All I did was remark that the girl was pleasant to look at—perhaps because we never had a sister. And yet Father wasted no time marrying me off to General Choi Woo Shin's daughter."
His fingers curled slightly beneath the water.
A cage built from silk was still a cage.
"Count me...too fourth brother," Baekyin suddenly declared. "I'll come with you."
Baekhwa frowned faintly. "Where?"
"To Silla." Before he could respond, Baekyi spoke again, his voice softer now. "No… third brother. I'm only worried about hyung. Ever since Karen died… he hasn't been the same."
Silence settled between them.
"You've grown thinner," Baekyin added. "You look like you carry the weight of the world.
Come. Let us drink tonight. Perhaps it will ease your heart."
"Drink?" Baekda cut in eagerly. "What drink?"
Soon, the others gathered, their voices overlapping in noisy excitement.
"Hyung, where are you drinking? Let me join!"
"Me too!"
Their laughter echoed against the bathhouse walls.
But Baekhwa heard none of it.
He rose from the water without a word.
A servant hurried forward, draping a robe over his shoulders. He dressed in pristine white robes embroidered with gold, each thread shimmering like sunlight—yet no warmth reached his eyes.
He walked.
He did not know where he was going. Only that he could not remain there. Without realizing it, his feet carried him to the Queen's Palace.
From a distance, he saw them.
Three figures.
They're all happy and cherishing every moment; so lively and full of laughter. He felt envy on them and felt like something twisted inside his chest.
After awhile of gazing to them. He turned away.
No one called his name.Either no one noticed him to enter and leave in Queen's residence. No guard nor servants.
Returning to his chambers, he stared into nothingness.
"When was the last time Father visited me… us, I and my brother; either mother?"
He could not remember.
Perhaps when he was thirteen. The year the First Prince returned from seclusion. The last year warmth existed in his life.
He closed his eyes and fell asleep alone.
The Next Morning
Dawn crept quietly into the Queen's chambers.
Four figures lay sprawled across the floor, tangled in blankets like careless children.
They awoke slowly and met each other's eyes. Then laughed for a moment, they were not royalty.
Like their casually drinking like buddies with family vibes.
"Father. Mother," Prince Baekje said, kneeling deeply. "I take my leave."
"I as well, Your Majesties," Yunuko Bong added.
They departed...
Noon — Prince Baekje's Residence
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed through the silent chamber.
"Who is it?"
"It is Hae-in, Your Highness."
Hae-in. Nineteen years old. Loyal and unwavering.
"Enter."
She bowed deeply. "The King's soldiers have arrived."
His expression hardened.
"…For me?"
"Yes. His Majesty summons you."
A faint sigh escaped his lips."Haysttt!" "Let them enter."
The soldiers bowed upon entering.
"You and the Second Prince will undertake the Royal Scholar Examination next month," one announced.
Baekje's eyes darkened slightly "I understand."
Then they left...
Silence returned.
"Aigoo…" he murmured softly.
One Week Later — The Throne Hall
The massive doors opened.
Prince Baekje entered.
He knelt and kowtow...
"Father. You summoned me."
"The examination begins in two weeks," the King said. "You will achieve a perfect score."
Baekje lifted his gaze.
"And if I do so...?"
The King answered without hesitation.
"The throne and permission to marry the woman you love."
Silence fell.
Baekje bowed again.
"…Forgive me, Father." His voice was calm.
Cold. "That is foolishness."
The King froze...
"I do not want the throne." "I do not want a forced marriage." "I wish only to serve at the border." His voice did not waver. Even before a king. Even before fate.
The Queen's Request
A guard shout from outside..."The Queen heard you've summoned the prince so she want to speak with him too when she learned that he was here."
If then..."Open it for her!"
Yes, Your Majesty!
Guards open the door then she walk go to the throne.
"Greetings, Your Majesty!" "Greeting my beloved son!"
"Greetings, Mother!"
"My son," the Queen said gently, "remove your mask."
He froze. "…Mother." Pain flickered in his eyes. "My face is ruined."
Her voice softened. "Just for a moment."
He hesitated then spoke..."Everyone must leave."
The King gestured the room emptied.
Silence.
Slowly—he removed the mask.
The King and Queen gasped like the world stopped for a moment.
"Are you… truly our son?" The Queen whispered.
He frowned. "…Mother?"
Her hands trembled. "You look…" She swallowed. "…like a god who descended to earth."
He laughed loudly "The scar?" I'm just made-up that idea because of this face maybe they targeted it so I wear a mask.